Fight To Come Home
by PerfectDisaster22
Summary: The Marine is the one who fights; the Marine Girfriend is the one who supports. When Corporal Matt Sanders is deployed to Iraq, he leaves his Ariadne behind to wait and worry. Read the story of how they fought to come home to each other.
1. I Need You

**Author's Note**: I tried my damndest _not_ to write this story. The idea's been floating around my head for about a week, but I didn't want to do it. A, I have homework to be focusing on. B, I knew this story would get really angsty and would affect me in weird ways, and I didn't want to put myself through that (shocking, when you consider how much I love angst, but there you go). C, I'm not sure I can do the subject matter justice (and not because it's a songfic).

Yet here I am, writing this out anyways. Why? A, I guess I'm a masochist. B, the idea _would not leave_. C, I listened to _Gunslinger_ and made the mistake of staring at Matt's dog tags, and my fate was sealed. This fic is lovingly dedicated to every soldier and every soldier's girlfriend/fiancée/wife, with my utmost gratitude and respect.

Also, even though I had M. Shadows in mind when I wrote this, and used Avenged Sevenfold songs, it's not really a fanfiction like my stuff usually is. This could stand as an original story. Additionally… yes, it's a songfic. But I did my best not to make it one of those really bad "let's just plop the lyrics in and write some dialogue around it" fics; I tried to work the gist of the song into the scene. Sometimes I just focused on the song's theme, sometimes I slipped lyrics into the prose, sometimes I had a character writing the song. But I tried to be subtle with it. Tell me how well I succeeded.

Matt Sanders is portrayed by M. Shadows  
Ariadne Wright is portrayed by Anna Nalick

**Disclaimer**: I don't own a single word of any of the ten songs used to create this fic. They belong to their respective artists. No copywrite infringement is intended. I don't own M Shadows or Synyster Gates, either (damnit). All I own is my own character (I borrowed one of Henderson's characters, as usual) and this idea.

**Playlist**:  
Chapter One: Dear God, Avenged Sevenfold; Poprocks and Coke, Green Day  
Chapter Two: Critical Acclaim, Avenged Sevenfold; Right Here Waiting, Bryan Adams  
Chapter Three: Lost, Avenged Sevenfold; If You're Reading This, Tim McGraw; Wake Me Up When September Ends, Green Day  
Chapter Four: Gunslinger, Avenged Sevenfold; Seize the Day, Avenged Sevenfold; Warmness on the Soul, Avenged Sevenfold

* * *

Chapter One: I Need You... I'm Here

United States Marine Corporal Matthew Sanders shifted in his seat, picking at his camouflaged fatigues as he closed his eyes and rested his shorn head against the window, warmed by the setting sun. Even though his green eyes were closed, he could still see the lonely road in his mind, straight as an arrow and empty except for the bus full of Marines headed for deployment. The only excitement (and excitement was a relative term) came when they crossed another cold state line, heading ever further from home and the ones he loved. Other than that, there was nothing to do but lose himself in his thoughts, attempt to remember his purpose in going off to war.

The 21-year-old South California native had always loved his country, but plenty of people did. That didn't lead them to sign up for not only the Armed Forces, but for the Marine Corps, arguably the toughest branch of the military. And to be honest, he'd never thought he would ever enlist. Yeah, he supported the troops, but he'd been perfectly happy to rehearse with his band and play the music he loved, to hang out with his friends. So why had he signed up?

One of his closest friends from high school had been a Marine. Had been… until a rocket-propelled grenade had blown up his Humvee in Afghanistan. Matt had enlisted in Alex's memory and honor. He had his friends' initials and dates tattooed on his arm, and his memory and example before him.

Matt shifted in his seat as sunset faded into twilight, and his mind returned once again to the people he was leaving behind. Well, one person in particular. He lifted the sleeve of his shirt, seeking out one particular design- a pair of bull's horns, the initial A topped by a crown between them. He smiled faintly; this tattoo had been a labor of love from conception to execution. He'd done the research and designed the tattoo when he was 18, and his best friend Brian had inked him (it had given him needed time towards his tattooing license). He'd gotten the tattoo in honor of one of his best and oldest friends, as a way to express his feelings for her when he was too chicken shit to tell her.

Matt had met Ariadne Wright in seventh grade detention. He and Brian had jumped into a fight that had erupted on the playground between Ariadne, her twin sister Elise, and some eighth grade boys over a game of kickball. They'd been the closest of friends from that point on.

How long had he been in love with her? Fuck if he knew. Probably from the very beginning, but he'd been too blind to realize it. Everybody else had known, apparently, but he hadn't figured it out until the day he'd announced to his friends that he was enlisting. He'd taken one look at Ariadne's pale, shocked face, and the truth had hit him like a bolt from the blue. He'd taken her outside, and without saying a word he'd kissed her, years' worth of passion pouring out of him at once. They'd gotten together that night, much to the relief of everyone.

Six weeks later, he was gone to boot camp in San Diego. He'd been gone for thirteen weeks of the most difficult physical and mental challenges of his life. The only contact he'd had with his family, friends and girlfriend had been letters. Once a week from his parents and sister. Every so often from his friends. Every day from Ariadne. His fellow recruits had teased him about how often she wrote, but he'd depended on her letters to get him through training.

His best friends and band mates, and Ariadne and Elise, had come with his family to San Diego for his graduation ceremony. It had been one of the proudest days of his life, and having everyone he loved there had just made it sweeter. He'd introduced Ariadne to his Drill Instructor and his fellow Marines, and most of them had told him the same thing he'd heard from his friends for years- that he and Ariadne would end up married.

He'd laughed them off, and eagerly gone home for his ten days of leave. He'd spent every second of every day with Ariadne, hardly ever letting her out of his arms no matter where they were or what they were doing. They'd slept together the night before he left for Infantry Training Battalion, and that night had damn near topped his graduation from boot as the best moment of his life.

He'd endured eight weeks of training at the School of Infantry- eight weeks of thinking he might possibly lose his mind. After that, it had been off for his first deployment- Camp Lejeune in North Carolina. Being across the country from Ariadne and his family had been brutal, but at least he'd had internet and the phone.

He'd spent nine months in North Carolina before he got the news- he was being deployed to Iraq. His division had been given ten days' leave to go home and be with their families, and then it'd be off to war.

The instant he'd heard the news, he knew what he had to do. He'd wasted too much time already; if he were going into a war zone he needed to know he had her with him.

He'd spent ten days planning, panicking, spending as much time with his loved ones as he could. Then, the night before he'd left, he'd taken Ariadne outside, under the tree in his backyard where they'd spent so much time over the years, and he'd asked her to marry him. Some might say it was premature; after all, they'd been together only a year, and they were only 21. But he was a Marine, and he was a grown man who knew his own mind. He loved Ariadne, and he wanted her to be his wife, and nothing would ever change his mind.

And now here he was, in this bus that was taking him ever further away from his home and his fiancée, off to an uncertain future.

Matt swallowed hard, reaching into his bag for his leather-bound journal. He'd kept the journal ever since leaving for boot; he wrote in it as though he was talking to Ariadne, and it helped him to cope. He opened the book, then stared at the picture that someone (probably Elise) had somehow slipped between the pages. It was a shot that had been taken only days ago, of he and Ariadne dancing in the park when they, Elise, Brian, Zacky and Jimmy had spent the day there, heads together as they stared into each others' eyes. He hadn't realized someone had brought a camera along, but he thanked them for this candid from the bottom of his heart. He lightly ran his thumb over her face, thankful for the aviators that still covered his rapidly misting eyes. He stared at her face, and he began to write, hearing the music he'd someday add to the song.

_Dear God, the only thing I ask of you  
is to hold her when I'm not around  
when I'm much too far away…_

* * *

She'd thought that the 13 weeks of boot camp had been bad, but now Ariadne Wright was confident that this had been the longest week of her life.

It had been bad enough when Matt was at boot, when she couldn't talk to him except through the letters she'd religiously written. But at least then he'd been in the States, out of danger. Now he was right in the thick of it, and unless he managed to get service on his cell or his laptop, she had no way of knowing he was alright.

She spent all her days worrying now, it seemed. Worrying about Matt's safety, worrying she'd miss his call, worrying that her letters wouldn't reach him, worrying about how much she worried about him. And much though she loved her friends and her sister, they didn't understand. How could they relate to her? If they were bored, they just had to text their boyfriends, and 20 minutes later they were together. They complained when they didn't see their man for 2 days, and then didn't understand when she laughed at them. No, they couldn't understand what she was going through.

Ariadne spent most of her free time at Matt's house, with his mother Kim and sister Amy. They understood; they all worried together. Ariadne had also gotten close to Lisa, the widow of Matt's friend Alex Winters, who'd been killed in Afghanistan, as well as the girlfriends, fiancées, and wives of Matt's platoon brothers. These women understood what it meant to love a soldier, how you spent all your life being so very proud of your man and his corps, but at the same time missing him and worrying for his safety every step of the way.

Maybe it would have been healthier to try and distract herself from the danger Matt faced. But Ariadne couldn't do that. Oddly, immersing herself in the Corps was a way to be close to Matt, to feel like he wasn't so far away. So she threw herself into it with reckless abandon- reading everything she could about the Corps and its history, joining an online support USMC G/F/W site, pinning a yellow ribbon onto her clothing and Support Our Troops magnets and stickers onto her car, sporting Marine Fiancée shirts. People shook their heads at her, but who were they to judge if reading _Roses and Thorns_ and poetry about Marine Girlfriends was more therapeutic than gossiping about trivialities with her non-Corps friends?

Sighing, Ariadne ran a hand through her choppy red-brown hair as she walked up the porch steps and through the front door of Matt's house. She threw a faint smile to the official graduation picture of Matt in his dress blues, which Kim had hung in the front hall, before walking into the family room.

"Hello?" she called. "Momma? Amy?"  
"In the kitchen, Adie!"

Ariadne followed the sound of Kim's voice back to the kitchen, where she found Mrs. Sanders making dinner. She smiled and lightly hugged Kim before jumping in to help with the food; the woman had been more of a mother to Ariadne than her own mother, especially since she graduated high school.

"Amy's got classes till nine tonight," Kim said, referring to Matt's younger sister, who attended the local technical school. "And Gary's working late. So it's just us. How's Elise holding up?"  
"About to tear her hair out," Ariadne said, laughing lightly. "Just got back from their apartment; looks like a war zone."

Ariadne's twin sister Elise was engaged to their best friend (and Matt's band mate) Brian Haner. They were a perfect match, really, but if they both made it alive to their wedding it would be a miracle. Today, Elise had changed her mind about the flower arrangements (again), and Brian had made an ill-timed comment about how no one cared about the flowers. Which of course had spawned a pointless argument, and Elise storming into her sister's office (Ariadne was the resident Stage Manager at the city theatre) to vent for 45 minutes before Ariadne got her calmed down enough to bring her back home. Ariadne had left about 30 seconds before the makeup sex had started, and headed to her future in-laws' house to regain her sanity.

"Poor girl," Kim laughed after Ariadne relayed the story. "Weddings shouldn't cause such stress."

The two women walked into the living room with their plates of pasta and salad, curling up on the couch. Since they were the only two eating, they kept things informal; hence the couch instead of the dining room table. They chatted easily as they ate, waiting for 6:00, when they would turn on the news and worry together. Even when the news started, they didn't pay much attention; there was only one kind of report that they were interested in.

_"Two soldiers died today in southern Iraq…"_

Ariadne's heart flew into her throat as she stared at the TV, not daring to breathe until she knew more details.

"It's not him," Kim sighed in relief, slumping in her seat as the short clip ended. "He's alright."

Ariadne nodded, but she couldn't move as Kim grabbed their plates and went to clean the kitchen to ease her nerves. She stood stiffly, turning off the TV, then stared blankly at the empty screen.

"But they were somebody's soldiers," she whispered, sending a silent prayer of comfort to the unknown sisters who'd lost their Marines.

She swallowed thickly, blinking back tears as she sank onto the bench of Matt's piano. She sat there stiffly, trying to persuade her body to relax. Matt was safe, she reassured herself; she could go on worrying about him for another day.

Sighing deeply, she dropped her head onto her arms, which were propped on the keyboard lid, and she cried. Cried in relief that Matt was safe, in fear that tomorrow he wouldn't be so lucky, in anger that she was so afraid, in sympathy for the widows who'd been created today.

Why had she agreed to this life, again?

She sighed shakily, wiping her eyes free of tears and staring at the solitary diamond winking on her left hand. The engagement ring had been Kim's. Matt had apologized for not buying Ariadne her own ring, but she was honored to have Kim's. She loved the ring, and the family she was marrying into, and most especially Matt. She'd always loved him, ever since he'd taken that punch for her in seventh grade. She couldn't imagine living her life without him, even though that life meant she'd always have to bear her worries and fears, that Matt came with a whole corps of brothers and sisters for her to love and support.

Drawing a deep, steadying breath, she pushed back the piano lid and began to play, imagining Matt was safe and sound and sitting next to her.

_Wherever you go, you know I'll be there  
If you go far, you know I'll be there  
I'll go anywhere, so I'll see you there_

_I don't care if you don't mind  
I'll be there not far behind  
I will dare  
Keep in mind  
I'll be there for you_

* * *

Note: Okay, about that tattoo I talked about Matt having; the bull's horns and the crowned A? It's a tattoo about Ariadne's name. In Greek mythology, Ariadne was a princess of Crete who helped Theseus defeat the Minotaur of King Minos. Theseus was supposed to marry Ariadne for her help, but he ran away. It's okay though, she ended up marrying Dionysus, god of wine and revelry. So instead of just getting her name, Matt went the more creative route and got a tattoo of the Minotaur's horns, with a crown over the A because Ariadne is his princess. Cute, no?


	2. I'll Be Waiting

**Author's Note**: This chapter was... interesting. The first POV was really easy for me to write; the second, not so much. So I like the first half of the chapter much better than the second part. However, I simply couldn't resist setting the second POV in the place I did; the idea was just too damn funny to pass up.

I've found that there comes a point in every story where I write a chapter that's like the calm before the storm. This would be the Eye of the Hurricane chapter. I don't want to call it a filler, coz it's not, but it definitely isn't as active as the next chapter's gonna be. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Two: Fuck You… I'll Be Waiting  
He was going to lose his mind and go insane. Either that, or he was going to kill somebody.

It had been four months since he came to Iraq. Four months of learning to speak Arabic and Kurdish, of patrolling town, of shooting his M-14 at a paper plate target just to have something to do, of staring into the desert sands and feeling like the only man in the world. Four months of constantly re-reading the letters Ariadne sent [which he religiously carried with him, tucking under his body armor for luck], of stealing any moment he could to call her [even if only for 30 seconds], of going absolutely stir-crazy.

He wasn't sure what he had been expecting when he went away to war, but he was pretty sure this wasn't it. Maybe he'd been expecting constant combat, always risking his life and limb. But this was… boring. Well, okay, they'd had a bomb or two to deal with, and yes, there was always PT to do. But still. If all he was going to do was walk around in camo, why was the military still in Iraq?

Sighing, Matt stretched out on his barracks cot, rubbing his eyes. He was so tired; he hadn't been sleeping well lately. His dreams had become nightmares- seeing himself die in combat, seeing Ariadne's face when she was told of his death, watching her kill herself… or worse yet, seeing her wither away and turn old in an instant, alone and cold. The dreams had scared him to the point that he had called Zacky and made him swear that if he were to die, Zacky would take care of Ariadne, would be there for her in any capacity she needed him; even to marry her, if it came to that. At first Zacky had laughed at him, but something in Matt's tone must have convinced Zacky that he was serious, because eventually Zacky agreed to the plan.

He couldn't fathom why he felt so fatalistic lately; there was no reason that he wouldn't make it home. His tour was almost over, and his superiors were optimistically hopeful that his platoon wouldn't be re-deployed to war zones. Elsewhere in the Middle East, perhaps, but not a war zone. So why was he so full of fear that he was going to die? Was it just the paranoia that came of being in this place forgotten by God? Was the boredom driving him out of his mind? He sure as hell hoped so; he was living for the day when he married Ariadne, he'd have to kill something if he died before that happened.

Matt barely blinked as a large green lizard shimmied through the wall and climbed up to him; he and his brothers had been adopted by this desert gecko several weeks ago. The lizard liked Matt best, so the boys had named it Ariadne.

"Wondered where you'd gotten to," Matt said lazily, feeding Ari a bite of granola bar. "Haven't seen you for a few days."

He closed his eyes, lazily stroking the lizard's dry, bumpy skin and letting his mind drift. His thoughts always managed to float in the same direction- back home, to Ariadne. Fuck, he missed her. She'd like the desert, its wild and barren beauty. Maybe they could move down to Arizona after he got out of the service. After he got out… Matt grinned faintly to himself. He had plenty of plans for after his seven years were up. Matter of fact, he had plenty of plans for his next bout of leave, most of them involving marrying Ariadne and fucking her as often as he possibly could. But first he had to get out of here, which meant he couldn't lose his mind. Which would be a challenge.

Matt looked up as his bunkmate Kyle stuck his head in the door.

"Oh good, you're not whacking off," Kyle said. "Come out and see this, man."

Matt yawned and rolled off the bed, picking Ari up and setting her on his shoulder as he followed Kyle to the common room, where about twelve guys were crowded around a laptop tuned to C-SPAN. They watched in disbelief as some pompous asshole stuffed into a suit denounced the combat in Iraq and criticized every soldier who continued to fight. A cacaophany of voices exploded in rage as the Marines yelled at the laptop.

"Stand in front of me and bite the hand that feeds!"  
"Gone too far!"  
"Where I'm from we have a special salute we aim high in the air towards all those pompous assholes who spend their days pointing fingers!"  
"Fuck you!"  
"You've never contributed a fucking thing to the country you love to criticize!"

Matt clenched his fists, glaring at the screen. How dare that jackass criticize them. He and his brothers were fighting to defend the freedom that allowed this idiot to speak as freely as he did, and how did the asshole thank them? By spitting on everything they were doing. Clearly, this pathetic excuse for a man had never served a day of his life. And people had elected this delusional idiot into office? What kind of people were he and his brothers protecting?

Glaring at the stuffed-up monkey on the screen, Matt stood and turned to go before he broke the laptop in his rage. One of the guys called after him.

"Go write us a fucking anthem, M!"

Matt glanced back at his brothers-in-arms, at the men who were half the age and twice as brave as the senator who denounced them, and tossed them a salute. This was happening more and more often, that Matt would write songs to express his and his brothers' frustration at the country they protected. And someday, when he got done with his years of service, he'd sing them to the world, to remind them to support the men and women who so selflessly protected them.

Grabbing a pen and his journal, Matt began to furiously scribble as Ariadne made a nest on his bunk, putting his brothers' words into a song, their anthem, their response to the world.

_Shh, quiet you might piss somebody off  
Like me motherfucker you've been at it for too long  
While you feed off others' insecurities  
You stand in front of me and bite the hand that feeds_

* * *

It was a beautiful wedding; Ariadne would be the first to admit that. Elise had very loosely based her wedding theme on Neverland; there were twinkling lights everywhere, the wedding colors were all earth tones, and the reception hall was rather pirate. Brian's tux was inspired by Captain Hook- tight black pants, ruffled white shirt, red velvet tuxedo jacket. Elise's wedding dress was white with green trim, and distinctly fairy-like; she'd even dyed her red hair blond to suggest Tinkerbell.

"Ariadne!" came the voice of her twin. "Get your ass out here, dance with us!"

She looked up from the glass of champagne she'd been sipping [well, maybe more like downing]. Elise was in the center of a huddle of bodies, the other people being Matt's band mates and her and Elise's other best friends, Brian, Jimmy and Zacky. Ariadne had to laugh at tiny Elise dancing with all the freakishly tall boys, but it wasn't anything out of the usual. Elise had always been the center of their worlds, however much she might protest that fact.

All five of them had been hovering over Ariadne all day long, doing their damndest to keep her laughing, to distract her from the fact that Matt wasn't there with them. She appreciated it, truly, and she knew they all only wanted the best for her. But they were irritating the living fuck out of her. She didn't need or want them all to worry about her, especially not today. Today was supposed to be about celebrating with Elise and Brian, not drawing attention to the fact that Ariadne's fiancé was gone. She could put up with Zacky paying close attention to her, because apparently Matt had asked him to look out for her. But she didn't want the rest of them hovering.

So she shook her head, refusing to go out and dance with her best friends. They were deep into the partying now, so Ariadne was finally free to stop being the maid of honor. She could relax and have a good time now… or, at least, she could slip outside and get away for a while. She stood, shaking out the skirt of her dress before walking to the bar to get another glass of champagne. She really, really liked champagne; she liked how it turned the world misty and soft. She didn't feel drunk at all; she felt like she was floating on air. She could get used to this.

Her heart still hurt, she discovered with mild surprise as she leaned against the bar. Elise and Brian had done everything they could to include Matt in the ceremony, even though he couldn't be there. They had his boot graduation picture hanging on the wall, behind the bridal party's table, and they had all propsed a toast to his health and safety. Then, for the bride and groom's first dance, they had played a video clip of Matt- he'd written a song for them, and gotten his bunkmate Kyle to record him playing it. She'd barely been able to control herself as the video played. She'd missed him so much today… being able to see him, hear him, but not touch him had only made things worse.

Ariadne, Matt, Zacky and Jimmy had always known that Brian and Elise would end up together. It was blatantly obvious that they were soulmates, despite how the people in question had been convinced that they were friends with benefits and nothing more. Matt should have been Brian's best man, as Ariadne was her sister's maid of honor; they had made a deal years ago that they would dance at the wedding…

It had been hard for Ariadne to sit through the reception. Not only because she was alone and missing Matt so much she couldn't breathe, thought God knew that was part of it. But besides missing him, and dreaming of their wedding [God, their wedding… he would be in his dress blues, and she would look like a princess, and their reception would be on the beach], she was getting such fucking sympathetic looks from everyone. People had such pity in their eyes when they saw she was sitting alone. As if they understood her pain. As if they knew how she felt.

_Oceans apart, day after day  
and I slowly go insane_

She groaned as the song began playing; she couldn't take this anymore. Standing, she kicked off her stiletto sandals and gathered up the floor-length skirt of her champagne-colored dress, and walked outside. She wasn't running away, she told herself; she just needed air. She stood outside in the cool night air, staring up at the stars and drawing deep, jagged breaths.

She ran a hand through her hair, messing up the curls, before reaching into her purse and pulling out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. Smoking was a horrible habit she'd picked up lately; they were the brand that Matt smoked, and when she was incredibly stressed she smoked one or two because the scent made it easier to pretend he was close by. She smoked as slowly as she possibly could, delaying the moment when she had to return to the party and the people. Sighing, she tilted her head back, staring up at the stars.

"I wish you were here, baby," she whispered. "You'd be having such a fucking blast… we could be making fun of Elise and Brian for not killing each other before they got here… hell, we could be sneaking out for a fuck. I hate that you had to miss this."

Finally, she couldn't put it off any longer. She flicked away the butt of her cigarette, then straightened her hair and her dress, trying to remember where she put her smile. She broke into a huge smile as her phone chirped out a familiar ringtone; thank you Matt for giving her a perfect reason to be outside.

"Hey soldier," she said, feeling the tension ease from her shoulders.  
"Hey baby," he replied, and she closed her eyes as his gravelly voice wrapped around her, warming her.

_I hear your voice on the line  
but it doesn't stop the pain_

They talked for ten minutes- unusually long for them. She clung to every second that passed, branding the sound of his voice into her brain, knowing she'd be up for the rest of the night replaying every second of their conversation over and over again. She told him about the wedding, he mentioned that his platoon might be moving. They spoke quickly, trying to get as many words in as they possibly could, not knowing when they'd get another chance to talk. Between everything else, they each said "I love you" a million times, each needing to hear it, to reaffirm what they knew to be true, needing to hear those most precious of words again and again.

And when they hung up, Ariadne slid down the wall, letting herself cry and miss him, and wish that she were at their wedding.

_Wherever you go, whatever you do  
I will be right here waiting for you  
Whatever it takes, or how my heart breaks  
I will be right here waiting for you_


	3. Lost

**Author's Note**: Words cannot express how much I hated writing this chapter. Y'see, I used to have nightmares very similar to what you're about to read. A fair portion of this story is actually based on that nightmare [another reason why I really didn't want to write it]. It was oddly therapeutic to write it out, in a way, since I've never told anybody about these nightmares or analyzed them. But still, I hated writing this chapter. You know it's a bad sign when I actually start to cry as I write. Just keep in mind, there is one more chapter after this one. So when you read it, please remember that before you threaten to sic Jacques the Death Duck on me.

* * *

Chapter Three: Lost… Drenched In My Pain  
Matt packed efficiently, methodically, focusing entirely on each minute movement in a futile attempt to quell his racing thoughts, to hold back the anxieties and fears that threatened to eat him alive. And when the task was done all too soon, he sat on his bunk, rubbing his head and clutching his journal, blankly staring into space.

His platoon was being shipped tonight to the southern part of the country, right into the thick of the fighting. The area had been particularly lethal lately, and more soldiers were needed. There had been a rumor floating around for the past three weeks that they might be reassigned, their tour of duty extended another six months, but until the announcement was made tonight Matt hadn't let himself think about it. Military plans were notoriously last-minute; he'd prayed for relief every second. But his prayers hadn't been answered. In three hours he would be leaving, and he had no idea when he'd return home.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't afraid; he was terrified. No sane person willingly wants to put themselves into danger, and Matt wasn't insane [he didn't think]. Yes, he'd signed up for the Marines willingly, and yes he'd known the risks, but now that the reality of his situation stared him in the face, he was frightened. His friend Alex was at the forefront of his mind. Alex had been shipped down there, and he'd left Lisa a widow back at home. What if that happened to him? What if he died and left Ariadne behind?

God, what if he died? He was only 21 years old; far too young to die. There was still so much he wanted to do with his life, how could he give up the chance to live? And Ariadne… He couldn't die, he couldn't let her go. What would happen to her if he died? He knew his fiancée, she would be destroyed. She would never allow herself to move on, never look for love again. If he died, he condemned her to a lifetime alone… a lifetime that they should be sharing.

God, he couldn't think like that. If he started thinking about losing Ariadne, he wouldn't make it home. He had to act as though he was going home, or he'd go insane.

But…

But what if he didn't make it home? What if he left Ariadne with no final word, no goodbye? That was almost a worse fate than dying. He had to leave a piece of himself with her, somehow. He paused, thinking, wishing. He should've tried to get a 96, he lamented. He should have fought for those four days, fought to get home to her, marry her, try to get her pregnant. Maybe that was cruel of him; what if if was worse for her, to marry her and then die before he could get home to her and their child? But… God, he wanted kids with her. He wanted a family. And now, he was afraid that he'd never get the chance.

He swallowed thickly, grabbing a pen and a clean sheet of paper. If he couldn't get home to Ariadne to marry her and bind them together, he was going to make damn sure that she had something to remember him by.

_Hey baby-_

_If you're reading this  
my momma's sitting there  
looks like I only got a one-way ticket over here  
I sure wish I could give you one last kiss  
war was just a game we played when we were kids  
Well I'm laying down my gun  
and hanging up my boots  
I'm up here with God  
and we're both watching over you_

He kept writing- a goodbye letter, a love letter, a song for her alone. He prayed to God that she'd never see it, but if he was about to die he needed her to have it.

When he was done, he threw the pen down and began to pace restlessly, not paying attention when the lizard crawled up onto his bag. He loathed the war that made that letter necessary. It was ironic, really; centuries had passed, the world was supposedly more civilized. Yet time and again, people resorted to the same bloody tactics. War seemed to be in humanity's blood; fighting for land and personal gain seemed to be all humans could think about. And when the wars were over, nothing changed, nothing was done to justify the deaths of the soldiers who'd laid down their lives for vague ideals and thin hopes of a better future.

He shook his head at the absolute futility. How many lives were destined to be lost? How many people's hearts had to break before the leaders of the world learned the uselessness of war?

And here he was, unable to run or escape, tied to his unknown fate. None of it was right, it was all horribly wrong. They shouldn't have been there; he should've been home, with Ariadne married to him, safe in his arms, cradling their child. Instead, he was being sent to the slaughterhouse.

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to draw a deep breath. If he kept dwelling on the drastic like this, he'd never find peace of mind. He climbed into bed, folding his arms behind his head. He closed his eyes again, imagining a better life, transporting himself home.

He saw himself sitting under the tree in his backyard, Ariadne in his lap. He focused as hard as he could, recalling the exact imprint of how she felt in his arms, the pressure of her head on his shoulder, her arms around his neck. He imagined Brian and Elise sitting next to them, all over each other as usual; Zacky and Jimmy chasing each other and wrestling. He imagined in a tiny little girl named Gloria, a girl with Elise's red hair, Brian's angular face, diving on top of her uncles and pummeling them with her tiny fists, giggling like the fiend she was sure to be. His heart lurched as his mind supplied two more children to the scene, twins with their mother's dark hair, his eyes and dimples. Andrew and Charlotte, he named them, feeling near to tears as he looked at the children he wanted so badly.

He forced himself to breathe, to concretize the image in his mind. Yes, he had to go into the thick of combat, but he could keep this little piece of heaven in his mind to stay sane. He could fight the war in the hopes that his mental picture came true. If he stayed focused on Ariadne and home, he wouldn't feel so lost, and he'd be able to focus on his job so that he could come home to her.

* * *

It was a beautiful, sunny day, warm and lazy; a perfect, peaceful day. There was not a cloud in the deep blue sky; the air was lazy and warm. The street was quiet, the neighborhood at peace. It was an ideal Sunday afternoon, one of those days that you always remember for the quiet and tranquility. Ariadne sat on the porch with Kim after church, her head tilted back to enjoy the sunshine as she pushed herself on the porch swing. They nibbled on cinnamon rolls and drank coffee as they talked about wedding plans; how handsome Matt would look in his dress blues, whether the bridesmaids should be in navy or scarlet or maybe gold, where Matt and Ariadne would go on their honeymoon, where Matt might be deployed to next. The peace was perfect.

The innocent can never last.

A car pulled up on the street, and two uniformed soldiers emerged and walked up the sidewalk towards them. From the moment Ariadne saw them, a vague fear began growing in her chest. Ever since Matt had left for Iraq, she had feared seeing two soldiers walking up to her, their faces somber as they spoke the words that would shatter her world. She stopped breathing, blinked rapidly, praying that she was just hallucinating. The scene took on a distant, surreal feel; she was no longer certain that she wasn't in a nightmare. She prayed that she was dreaming, that any second she would wake up screaming. This couldn't be real; this unfolding drama had to be a fabrication of her own fear. She wouldn't let it be real.

She saw one soldier approach Kim, heard a jumble of words that her brain refused to process, and she yelled at herself for not being able to wake up from the nightmare. It wasn't real, it couldn't be happening. They weren't speaking her deepest fears; Matt was safe, his tour of duty would be ending in less than a month. He was coming home, and this nightmare had to stop right the fuck now.

_Operation in south… heavy fire… MIA… presumed dead…_

She saw the other officer approach her, heard him ask if she was Ariadne Wright. But though she looked up at him blankly, she couldn't make her mouth open to answer; if she didn't answer, the dream would end, and she would find herself safe and sound in Matt's bed, her phone ringing, telling her that he was calling, that he was alright.

He handed her an envelope and a set of dog tags.

_Wanted you to have these… he loved you very much…_

She lost it, then. Her mind snapped, reality finally sinking in, her mind finally processing what she'd been told. She ran inside, her entire body shaking with sobs. She pounded up the stairs and burst into Matt's room. With a cry, she flung herself onto his bed, and she broke down in wild, frame-rattling sobs.

_MIA… presumed dead… loved you very much…_ The horrible, hateful words kept repeating in her brain, tormenting her. He was gone. Matt was dead. He'd been lost, he wasn't coming home, she'd never see him again. She was alone, she'd lost him.

She didn't know how long she cried. She couldn't stop; the tears just kept on coming. When she'd _finally_ cried out the first of her grief, she curled up in bed, slipping Matt's spare tags over her head, shivering as the cold metal touched her skin. Was Matt as cold as this now? Was there nothing left of him to bury, except for dog tags? Was his corpse lying somewhere out in the Iraqi desert, abandoned, forgotten? Was he as alone as she was?

She stared at the envelope she clutched in her hand. She didn't want to open it; that would make Matt's death real, final. But she needed to know what he'd written for her, needed to hear his last message. So, bracing herself, she opened the envelope.

_Hey baby-_

_If you're reading this  
my momma's sitting there  
looks like I only got a one-way ticket over here_

She had to stop every other line because she was crying so hard. She was relieved when the sky darkened with a sudden summer storm; if she had to be drenched in her pain again she wanted the stars to cry, as well.

She eventually calmed down, and she just lay there numbly. What the hell was she going to do now? She would never forget Matt, never. He was her best friend, her first love. How _could_ she move on?

How could it be possible that he was gone? She had just talked to him three days ago. He had been laughing, teasing her, telling her he loved her and was living for the day when he could come home. How could he be dead? How could he have been taken from her already?

Ariadne whimpered, curling into a ball and pulling the covers tight around her, the sheets a poor substitute for his arms. She surrendered into sleep, knowing that she would be seeking Matt in her dreams, part of her wishing that if she found him there, that she'd never wake up, that she could spend forever with him in her dreams since a future together had been stolen from them.


	4. I Give My Heart To You

**Author's Note**: I ended up having to completely rewrite this chapter, because before it was just barely two pages and after all the angst of the last chapter I didn't want to end so abruptly. Also, the first try at this chapter sucked hard. It's more fleshed out now, and I like it a lot better. This chapter is my consolation to myself; since I gave in to my evil muse and wrote out this story I didn't want to write, I changed the ending of my nightmare and turned it into... this. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Four: I Give My Heart To You  
Darkness. Stillness. Absolute nothingness. Nobody and nothing else in the world that didn't exist because all there was was this complete blackness.

It absolutely sucked.

From far, far away he sensed people, a material world that he seemed to have gotten lost while trying to find again. Yes, that was good. Anything was better than this fucking darkness that was steadily becoming more and more terrifying. He refused to stay in the void any more; he had to get back to the world.

He groaned as he stirred, feeling fuzzy and disjointed, as if he couldn't hook back up to reality. Fuck, he couldn't feel his body. Did he still _have_ a body? Was he dead? Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck no, he couldn't be dead, he couldn't… No. He wasn't dead; he _refused_ to be dead. Being dead would not work; he had serious issues with that possibility.

Slowly, he cracked open his eyes, wincing. Fuck. Bright white light. That didn't bode well for his 'I'm not dead' philosophy… Somewhere in the white light he heard rhythmic beeps, the quiet whirring of machinery. Well, that seemed out of place for Heaven… If he was dead, and he still refused to be dead, he _had_ gone to Heaven, right? Despite he and Jimmy joking about throwing a coup and taking over Hell, he really didn't want to spend eternity in fire and brimstone. Please, please, please don't let him be in Hell… Slowly, he tried to open his eyes again, blinking rapidly until the fuzzy blobs and alien colors resolved themselves into cabinents, sheets, tiles, door… a hospital room. Wait… hospital? They didn't have hospitals in Heaven… did they?

"I'm not dead, right?" he murmured, his tongue feeling thick and heavy, his voice slurred.  
"Not quite," a voice answered, "though you came very close."

He turned his head, seeking the source of the voice. He blinked lazily; the fog in his brain was making it really hard to focus, to tell what was reality and what was his own imagination. What he found- what he hoped was really there, anyways- was a doctor, looking over a clipboard and checking his machines.

He blinked again, registering that his entire body seemed to be covered in white. His leg was suspended, and bound in a cast. His entire torso was taped up, his left arm immobilized in a sling, and now that he was awake and feeling was ever so slowly coming back to his body, he was sore all over, as if he had been kicked around like a rag doll. He furrowed his brow; what the hell had happened to him?

"And honestly, it's a miracle that you are still alive," she continued. "You probably feel pretty groggy now, am I right?" She smiled when he nodded slowly. "That's the morphine. Do you remember what happened?"

Matt furrowed his brow, trying to push aside the haze of sleep and morphine to think. He remembered driving in a convoy, guarding supplies that they were bringing into the town… and an explosion, the car in front of him, seeing brothers blown sky high… he remembered shooting a sniper, taking a hit in return but feeling no pain… another explosion, his humvee this time… flying through the air… remembering Alex's death, the mental image he'd created of his twins, Ariadne's face before his eyes, a surprising feeling of peace… then nothing.

"It took three days to locate your convoy after the attack. Then they had to stabilize you enough to fly you here- you were severely dehydrated and unconscious."  
Matt nodded slowly, but had to stop when his vision swam. After a moment, he refocused on the doctor. "How many of us got out?"  
The doctor's face grew very solemn. "Seven."

He choked. There had been twenty soldiers on that convoy. Thirteen of his brothers had been killed, in an instant. Some of his closest friends were probably dead. Why was he alive? Why had he been spared, when so many of his brothers had been killed?

Not that he wasn't grateful to be alive. He was alive, and he was safe here… wherever here was… and surely they'd send him home now. He would be home with Ariadne, and everything would be alright.

"Where is _here_?" Matt asked.  
"Germany," the doctor replied. "Your family hasn't been notified yet; administration is still working through paperwork. It seems that they were told you were MIA, presumed dead."

His eyes widened, vaguely heard the monitor flatline as his heart skipped several beats. His family had been told he was dead? Ariadne thought he was gone? _Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck, no_, he thought_._ If the military had told Ariadne he was dead, that meant that she had the letter he'd written her. _Oh god, no…_ He'd never wanted her to have that letter. He rubbed his face with his free hand, beginning to panic. He couldn't bear the thought of her crying, being in pain, of thinking he was dead. God, what if she did something drastic because she thought she'd lost him? _Fuck fuck fuck, please god, no…_ he prayed. _Keep her safe, don't let her do something stupid coz I'm not there…_

The doctor looked at him, concerned. "Are you alright?"  
Matt swallowed hard. "They sent notification to my family… so my fiancée thinks I'm dead right now. Fuck."  
"Ah," she said, nodding. "You're going to be shipped home as soon as I release you."  
"Then get me the hell outta here. I gotta go home," Matt said.  
"Not so fast, soldier, you're not healed yet," the doctor said. "Broken ribs, broken collarbone, dislocated shoulder, concussion, broken leg."  
"I feel fine, Doc," Matt replied.  
"That's the morphine talking," she retorted.  
"Probably," Matt conceded. "But honestly? I'll just sneak out of here anyways. I _need_ to get home. Now."  
The doctor sighed. "Alright. I'll release you, _if_ you promise to take it easy. I can get you shipped home tomorrow morning."  
"What about redeployment?" Matt asked.  
She shook her head. "You'll be out of active duty for at least eight weeks while you heal, and you won't be eligible for redeployment until a doctor ok's you. Then you'll probably get shipped back to wherever your platoon's been sent at that point."

Matt nodded in acceptance, glancing around the room. What the hell was he supposed to do until tomorrow morning? He knew without question that he wouldn't sleep; sleep would be impossible when he knew that Ariadne was in pain. She most likely wasn't going to be sleeping any time soon, and he would stay awake with her. The morphine and his worry wouldn't let him focus on watching TV. So how would he pass the hours?

Beside his bed was a thick stack of letters, which he easily identified as Ariadne's. He'd had them under his body armor the day of the attack, he remembered. He'd nearly gone out without them, but upon reflection that the convoy would be traveling at least five hours, he'd brought them along, to have reading material. He reached out and grabbed them with his good arm, frowning when he saw the hole that had ripped through them. Now how in the hell…?

The doctor smiled. "The miracle I spoke of. You were shot in the shoulder, but the letters stopped the bullet from hitting you."

Matt closed his eyes, kissing the bundle of letters as his throat tightened. It was fitting, really. Ariadne's letters had kept him going for months, kept him warm no matter what was happening. And now she'd saved his life. He groaned low in his chest; he needed to be home. He'd been gone for far too long; he shouldn't have left her alone.

"Hold on, baby," he whispered. "After all this time, I'm coming home to you."

* * *

She'd thought that the thirteen weeks of boot camp had been difficult. Then she'd thought that things couldn't get worse than the first week of Matt's deployment. If she had the ability to laugh, she would be laughing now. Compared to this, an eternity without him, what she'd gone through before was laughably simple.

When she'd read _New Moon_, Ariadne had laughed at the description of Bella behaving like a zombie, sleepwalking through life. She'd thought it was absolutely ridiculous and self-indulgent; how could anyone in the real world possibly be that numb and inhuman?

She understood now. Understood how the world could seem so gray and empty, how the meaning could be sucked out of everything you did, how nothing had a purpose anymore because the center of your world was ripped out from under you. Ariadne had become a zombie in the last week. She was blank, she was numb, she was lifeless. She walked through her days, she interacted with people, but none of it seemed real. It was as though she was walking through a world of shadows and mist; anything she tried to touch or connect to just melted away into nothingness. If she had the ability to feel, she would be screaming and ripping her hair out, trying to escape this hell, this nightmare. She couldn't fathom living the rest of her life like this, but there was no other way for her to live. Matt was dead, and so was she.

The day was sunny, warm, eerily similar to that horrible day a week ago. But today, she didn't register the sun or the peace. As far as she knew, the sky was overcast, the entire world painted in shades of gray. It was a warm day, but Ariadne huddled into her shawl, shivering, feeling a chill penetrate her being down to her core as she walked outside and into the backyard.

Kim had persuaded her to move in with them for the time being, while they made arrangements and went through the first few weeks without Matt. When Ariadne wasn't at work, she sat in Matt's room, which was now hers, staring blankly at the books on the shelves, the posters on the walls, the scraps of paper with bits of lyrics that Matt had scribbled in haste and then forgotten about. And when she wasn't in his room, pulling his faint, lingering scent into her lungs, she was out in the backyard.

Kim and Gary had bought a headstone to mark an empty grave, and placed it in their backyard, under the tree that Matt had loved so much and spent so much time beneath. The military hadn't found enough of Matt to ship home, so this marker in the backyard was all they had to mourn, the only memorial he would have.

She spent part of every day sitting by the grave, losing herself in memories. It was painful, so incredibly painful to remember him, to see him smile in her mind's eye, to almost hear him laugh. But she welcomed the pain; it was the only feeling left to her anymore. The unbearable clenching of her heart, the way her throat tightened and her eyes stung with tears, they were proof that she still remembered, that she could still feel. She was terrified that she would forget, that time would steal the memories from her. And if she lost even a single memory of Matt, she didn't know how she would survive.

Vaguely, she heard a car pull up in the street. She didn't move, didn't turn, didn't acknowledge the fact that someone had come home. She was the only one there at the moment, and after two days everybody knew to look for her in the backyard. It was probably Zacky, she supposed. Kim had called the guys and Elise, had told them what had happened. From that moment on, Zacky had always been there, fulfilling his last promise to Matt. He would sit with her, an arm wrapped around her shoulders. He wouldn't try to take her pain from her; he would merely be there, to remind her that she wasn't as alone as she felt. She was grateful to him, somewhere in the back of her mind, though for the most part she didn't quite register that he was there. Someday, if she ever broke out of this zombie thing, she would have to try to find a way to thank him.

She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering in the slight breeze. She felt empty and cold without Matt there, as if she truly were as dead as he was. It was so unfair; she and Matt had promised each other their lives, and their lives had been stolen from them. Matt was now in Heaven, and she was stuck in Limbo without him. She knew that they would have died eventually, but why had it had to come so soon, before they'd ever really possessed each other?

She'd had dreams, so many dreams. They were going to get married; Matt would go on tour with the band and make it big; they would have a family. She had wanted so badly to get pregnant when Matt left for deployment, so that no matter what happened she would always have a part of him. But she hadn't conceived, and now she had lost her chance to ever have a child with him. And it wasn't fair.

She blinked back tears, wrapping her fingers around Matt's dog tags as her darker thoughts returned. What if she let go? She wasn't needed on earth, despite what everyone told her. Elise had Brian; the gang had each other; Kim and Gary and Amy had each other. Someone else could take over her job in the theatre. She had no desire to live, and her anchor and reason for being was in heaven. So what if she took a journey into darkness, followed Matt past the walls of death?

It was a tempting thought, to let go. Surely they could be together in heaven; surely God wouldn't separate them again. If she died, if she went to Heaven, surely she could have Matt.

But suppose she killed herself and there was no eternal life? What if, instead of forever with Matt, there was only the darkness of oblivion, an eternity alone? Even though that's how she felt now, all that this life seemed to hold for her, surely it would be worse to die alone, to spend an afterlife without everyone she loved. She had already lost Matt, and lost their children before they'd ever had the chance to exist; could she let go of everyone else, too?

She closed her eyes, feeling the hopelessness wash over her again. She stood alone; falling away from Matt, with no way to get back to him, to get home, no chance to ever live again.

And then she wasn't alone anymore, because a pair of strong arms wrapped around her, and she was safe and warm, and a voice she'd never thought to hear again was singing their song in her ear.

_And we have gone through good and bad times  
but your unconditional love was always on my mind.  
You've been there from the start for me  
and your love's always been true as can be.  
I give my heart to you  
I give my heart, cause nothing can compare in this world to you._

She turned, and there he was, staring at her as if he were seeing Heaven.

It was a dream, she knew it was. She must have fallen asleep on the bench again, and now she was dreaming. Either that, or she really had become like Bella, and she was seeking out hallucinations. It was such a perfect illusion, though; she could touch him, she could smell his scent. She had to hand it to her subconscious, it had done one hell of a job.

"This isn't real. You're dead," she whispered.  
He shook his head. "I'm home, baby."

Then he kissed her.

She came alive again in an instant, his touch breaking through the gray world of shadows and drawing her back to the land of the living. She clung to him, feeling the blood ring in her ears, feeling his pulse beneath her fingers, sensing how blessedly alive he was. He wasn't dead; he was alive, and he was here with her, and she hadn't lost him, and she never would.

He clung to her, fearing he would never be able to hold her close enough. He poured everything he was capable of feeling into the kiss, needing her to have everything he was, needing to show her they were both still alive.

And suddenly, all they'd been through didn't matter anymore, because Matt had come home, and he had brought Ariadne back to life with him. They were together again, and that was all that counted.


End file.
